Count the big things. All those times she falls asleep in my arms. The knowing looks. Anticipating what story she’ll tell next. That smile. Those eyes. The flutter that comes with knowing our time apart has ended, even the brief ones. These are the things worth preserving.
You may count the setting of the sun as monumental astral mechanics, but I number the many days of sitting together and talking about absolutely nothing and the peaceful nights when we read next to one another, but calendars don’t matter to time, they really don’t. The number of times a day that the moments feel important are unquantifiable.
The less important, the jobs and moves and all of the other little gains in life are so much white noise — the distant hum.
These are the things things that matter.
The way she curls her whole body up when I make her laugh, and all of those times when she reaches out to hold my hand. The tally of histories and memories, great hugs and hot dates, the silliness and seriousness, the number of laughs and smiles and adventures, they all stretch beyond vision. There’s a lot of good fortune and a great many blessings in all of that, too.
If we must, the calendar says we’ve been married 5,479 days. Meaning today’s important number is 15. Fifteen years ago today my uncle stood in front of our family and friends and, as he said, tied us in a knot we wouldn’t soon be able to unravel. I’m grateful for all the important parts that make up everything between then and now, and the simple and grand thoughts of what still may come.
